Smoke
by Bananas102
Summary: Ever since he left for college, Sam's life has been spiraling downward. He's taken up smoking, drugs, and prostitution for food and shelter, and Sam's pretty sure this is how the rest of his life is going to be, until his brother comes knocking on the front door. Warning! Mention of: Addictions, drug abuse, rape, and a bunch of other stuff. NO EXPLICIT SEX SCENES! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Smoke

Prompt: This is a hooker!Sam fic that been buried in the back of my mind for awhile.

Warnings: Rated T. I don't want to write any kind of explicit sex, I'm just not comfortable with that. Sam's going to be kind of mean in this fic, only because of what he's been through. Don't worry, though, Sam'll turn all cute and cuddly again :)

Disclaimer: Sam and Dean aren't mine, I just babysit on the weekends (kidding)

Author's Note: I really hope you enjoy it, and I'll write it for you to the best of my ability.

* * *

The air is heavy with smoke and the scent of sex, and grunts and moans seep from the cracks of the apartment complex. Anyone who wasn't there for service was usually driven off, either by the look of the buildings itself, barely lit at night with several bricks and most of the mortar missing or by the people outside, draping themselves on the sidewalks and lamp posts.

Women, clad in low cut dresses that clung to their hips. Their faces painted with makeup, eyes dark and smoky and lips full and red. Men with tight wife beaters and too-small jeans that ride low on their hips, eyeliner smudged around their eyes and condoms tucked in their back pockets.

There were usually two other men, but unlike the others, they're built, eyes dark and threatening while they merely stand in the shadows and keep an eye out for any sign of trouble.

Anyone who wasn't either inside with a client or out in front was working the streets, trying to seduce their ways into someone's car or motel. Sometimes they even get them to come to the apartment, and trick them into coming again.

It was a hard lifestyle, but they were willing to do nearly do anything for a place to eat and sleep, and in turn they received a home, though twisted and dysfunctional on several levels.

And when Sam arrived in California for the first time after leaving John and Dean, that's exactly where he found himself.

With no money for school supplies or rent, he ended up dropping out of college and less than three months from when he arrived, a woman found him on the side of the road and offered him a place to stay, and a way to work.

He accepted.

It took time for Sam to get used to it. But the other workers were friendly, and they showed him how to apply makeup and when to wear, even how to act to get someone interested.

While it was easy to attract attention, especially with his looks, sometimes it wasn't a good thing. There were several incidents where one of the muscle men had to step in, and even more where he came back bruised and bloody, only to spend the night crying in someone's arms.

Sam took up bad habits. Smoking and doing drugs were very normal occurrences in the 'house' as they called it, and Sam eventually picked it up and soon was snorting fluffy white power and take drags off of cigarettes when he wasn't working.

After two years, Sam figured that he would live the rest of life this way, at least until he got too old and he was eventually booted out to the streets to become some old homeless man.

Dean's arrival changed everything.

* * *

"Sam, have you seen the box of condoms?" Sam looked up and turned his head to see Victoria leaning against his doorway, smiling good-naturedly.

She was very beautiful, with dark purple colored wavy hair that hung to her waist and sparkling green eyes. She had wide hips and a narrow face, giving her a seductive appearance, which was a god-send in their line of work.

Sam thought for a moment. "Last time I heard, Kitty had them." Victoria's face twisted into a mock scowl. "Of course she does," she groaned. "I'm going to head out. See you in a few hours."

He watched her slip away and sighed.

His stomach growled and Sam nearly rolled his eyes. "Time for food," he murmured to himself, slowly climbing off of his mattress and onto the faded hardwood floor. Very few people in the house had an actual bed frame, while a couple didn't even have a mattress, so Sam considered himself lucky.

Padding out into the hall, he glanced around as workers milled about, chatting and either getting ready or undressed for their shifts. The house was lit by low powered lamps and candles. It's deteriorating walls and cramped rooms were draped in strips, making the crumbling complex seem more surreal and desirable.

Sam carefully made his way downstairs to the basement, where they kept things like food and money. He thought back to the time where one of Tina's clients had snuck down and tried to take their stash of money.

Brad, one of the men around for muscle in return for housing and food, had beat the crap out of him and dumped him on the sidewalk as a warning. It hadn't happened since.

"Hey, Sam," Sabrina greeted. She was Hispanic, with long dark hair and eyes and golden tan skin. A small girl, and a bit shy, but she was very trustworthy and the only one who had a copy of the ownership papers for the apartment.

Sam smiled and gave her a small wave. "Hey." She was standing part way in the fridge, the door open and her right arms resting on the top as she contemplated what to eat.

"Is there a sandwich in there?" he asked. Sabrina ducked her head to check before pulling out a plastic bag with a half of one inside. "That's it. Thanks," Sam told her, grabbing it from her outstretched hand.

"Awesome," she said half-heartedly. "Sam, what do I want to eat?" Sam sat down on the floor, the chill of it causing goosebumps to erupt on his skin. He bit into his sandwich of cheese and lettuce and thought about it while he chewed and swallowed.

He held up his food and waved it back and forth. "Sandwich?"

She frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh, why not," she said to herself.

Sabrina joined Sam on the floor a few minutes later with her own sandwich in her hand.

"So," she began, "I saw a hottie when I was out working." Sam blinked. "Oh?" he said, beginning to eat the crust. Sabrina nodded, smiling faintly and taking a bite as well.

"Uhuh. He was all haggard with pretty green eyes. His car was something too, all black and shiny." Sam finished his meal and swallowed, peeking at her from the corner of his eye, interest peaked. "Called it his 'baby'," she told him with a small giggle.

Sam was suddenly uncomfortable, and he stood up and went to the sink to wash out his plastic bag, as it could be used again. He left it on the counter to dry.

As he retreated back to his room after a brief goodbye to Sabrina, his mind was running a mile a minute.

_It can't be him. It's not possible._

* * *

Sam went out two hours later, clad in a black wifebeater and torn black jeans, with black eyeliner to match. He was lucky that it was still summer and the night really wasn't cold.

Kaitlyn, a small girl with brown hair and curvy hips, smiled and help up a pack of cigarettes, shaking them as an offer. Sam rolled his eyes, but followed. "We haven't worked together in a while," she hummed.

Sam lit his cigarette and took a long drag, breathing out wisps of smoke from between his lips. "No," he agreed. The rumble of a car engine halted their conversation and he put out the cigarette as a dirty blue mustang pulled up beside them.

"Hello," Kaitlyn purred, already moving towards the window. Sam decided to wait, draped elegantly against the light pole. Silent and mysterious usually got people interested.

The guy rolled down the window and leered at the two of them. He eyed Kaitlyn hungrily before checking out Sam and Sam purposely rolled his hips forward.

"How much for the two of you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sam ended up working with five clients that night and he earned four hundred dollars, which would be put towards fixing the hole in Paige and Jasmine's room. The next morning, he left the house to take a walk.

Little did he know that his day was about to take a turn for the the worse.

* * *

Sam was passing an alley in the bad part of town when a pained groan caught his attention. He slowed to a stop, peering out from under his hood at a figure slumped against the wall with someone leaning over them predatorily.

He swallowed and took a step forward. When the sole of his sneaker scraped against the pavement, the second figure looked up in alarm and Sam's heart stopped.

Their eyes were pure obsidian.

They took off, running down the alleyway and vanishing into the shadows within a matter of seconds. Sam was ready to run after them but he paused, glancing at the creature's victim.

It turned out to be a woman, and he quickly knelt by her side. "Are you okay?" he asked in concern. Looking closer, he realized he knew her. It was Sasha, a redhead from the house, with pretty blue eyes and a snarky attitude who hadn't been seen in days.

"Sasha? Hey-Sasha, talk to me. Are you alright?"

She raised her head and she looked up at him. For a moment, Sam was sure she recognized him before she broke down into sobs and passing out from exhaustion several seconds later.

Three Days Later:

Dean was itching to leave. He'd been waiting for almost an hour, and no one had even come to talk to him yet. John had sent Dean over on a case that wasn't even a case, only to have another one pop up when he was about to leave.

A woman had been attacked in the backstreets and the only reason he was here was because when she'd woken up she'd started babbling about a black-eyed man who was trying to kill her before dropping _again_ and this time, she hadn't woken up. That, and the ordeal supposedly had a witness.

His thoughts were disrupted by the dull thud of boots. Dean looked up to see a stocky man with blonde hair and blue eyes standing in front of him, garbed in a worn out police uniform.

"Mr. Thomas?" Dean nodded and stood up as the officer introduced himself. "My name is Bryce Walling. You're hear about the alley attack?" Dean nodded again.

"Yeah. You know, I noticed there was very little information on file. What's up there?"

Bryce shrugged and they started walking towards the holdings cells at the back of the building. "I'm not surprised. There are a lot of attacks around here, in all shape and form, so this isn't uncommon. Especially for someone in her line of work."

Dean frowned in confusion, narrowing his eyes at the policeman. "Her line of work?"

Bryce cleared his throat, eyes flickering away to look at something else. "She's a prostitute, sir."

Dean blinked in surprise. "A prostitute? Isn't that illegal?" Bryce unlocked the door to the back and nodded, stepping to the side to allow Dean to enter first before going in and closing the door behind them.

"Yes, but many kids that come here don't have enough money to support themselves, so they do whatever it takes to survive."

Dean scowled at that, but he could see it. "So, the witness, is she...?" he asked, trailing off.

"He," Bryce corrected, "And yeah, apparently he's one of her coworkers and knew her pretty well before she went missing a few days ago." He gestured to a closed grey door. "He's in there. Knock when you need me."

Dean muttered a quick thanks and stepped inside when Bryce unlocked the cell. He stopped cold when he saw the witness in question. Sam sat in the brown plastic chair on the opposite side of the table, feet propped up on the table's surface.

He must've looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

Sam's face, passive at first, morphed into one of irritation and barely masked anger. "Of course," he sighed, once again becoming calm. Dean gaped like a fish out of water and a sly smirk blossomed on Sam's face.

"Better shut that mouth before someone pays to use it."

Dean was taken aback. Who was this guy? It wasn't Sam, because same wouldn't say anything so goddamn _crude _and he certainly wouldn't be the prostitute Bryce has been talking about.

"Y-You're the hooker?" he croaked.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. And? Didn't you have some questions to ask me?"

Anger bubbled up from deep within Dean's chest. "What the hell, Sam?! I haven't seen you in two years and I come up here to find that you're a _prostitute?!_"

He took a breath and looked down at the floor, gaze anywhere but his brother's face. "If...If it was about money, you could have come to me, you could have called-"

Sam cut him off, bringing his feet down and leaning forward in his seat to rest his forearms on the table. "Who, Dean? Who could I have called about this? You? You changed your number as soon as I was gone and went off to god knows where, doing hunts halfway across the country. _There was no way to reach you!_"

He scoffed. "And you think I was gonna call Dad? Yeah, right."

Dean swallowed as guilt washed over him. Sam was right, less than three days after he'd walked out the front door his number was changed and him and John were on their way to Louisiana to hunt a werewolf.

He licked his lips nervously. "You can stay with me until we get this all figured out," Dean offered, only to be confused when Sam gave him a look that clearly said no.

"You're not going back?" he asked incredulously.

Sam raised his head to look Dean in the eye, stubborn and unwavering. "Yeah, I am."

Dean gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists. "Damn it, Sam, I won't let you _whore _yourself." Sam leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, so calm and composed Dean wanted to punch him in the face.

"You can't stop me, Dean. This is my life." He looked at the door briefly. "Now, you had questions for the case. Ask them now, or I'm walking out." Dean pursed his lips and pulled the chair out and sat down, with more force than necessary.

He took a breath to calm himself, trying to keep from freaking out about how his little brother was a freakin' hooker. "What happened?"

Sam blinked. "I was walking in town," he began, tone teetering on the edge of boredom, "I saw someone in the alley with someone leaning over them. When I moved towards them for a better look, the other guy took off. He had black eyes."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Black? As in...?"

"Supernatural kind of black, Dean. Anyway, after he...or she, I don't know. After they left I checked up on Sasha and brought her to the nearest hospital."

His brother frowned. "Huh. I can't think of anything that would have black eyes, at least, nothing I've come across in a while." Sam shrugged and again glanced at the door, and Dean got the impression that Sam really wanted to leave.

"I think we're done," he said gruffly. Sam nodded and stood, and for a second Dean realized Sam had gotten _taller_, if that was possible, in their time apart. Sam rapped on the door and Bryce opened it up, stepping aside to let the two pass.

Outside, Sam turned to leave when Dean called his name. "What?" he asked. Dean shifted from one foot to the other, eyes not staying in one place too long.

"Do you have a number I can call? Just in case."

Sam bit the corner of his lip. "Uh, well, the apartment only has one phone, so if you don't mind that..."

"That's fine," Dean said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, but he didn't care. This Sam was new, and most certainly not improved, and Dean would take what he could get at the moment.

Sam dug around in his pockets and pulled out a wrinkled post-it note and used Dean's pen to scribble down a number before handing it back to him. "See you," Dean said lamely.

Sam merely grunted as he turned away, and Dean watched him go.

* * *

"Sam! Where were you? I was worried," Victoria cried, standing up from where she'd been sitting when Sam went upstairs to his room. Sam gave her a fake smile, a bit disappointed when she noticed.

"Are you okay?" she asked, quieter than before.

Sam nodded and waved it away. "Yeah, I'm fine. The police just wanted a statement." Victoria pursed her lips, which were painted a plum color to match her hair and her purple top.

Their discussion ended when Kitty came in, grinning and shaking a small plastic bag containing a snow white powder.

She had caramel colored hair and big brown eyes. She favored pink over basically everything, and people liked her for her little-girl was mostly likely bipolar, for half the time she was cute and simple, the next she was sly as a fox.

Or maybe it was to suit her name, but who knows.

"Look at what just came in," she squealed happily. That's another thing. Kitty was never one to be ashamed or worried about being addicted to anything. She was perfectly fine with snorting cocaine, and that kind of optimism eventually seeped into other people.

Sometimes it helped them, so they wouldn't have another thing to be guilty about.

The house had many occupants, some of them former criminals. But then again, since prostitution was illegal, they were all criminals.

Sam swallowed hard. "You shouldn't be wasting what little money we have on drugs," Victoria scolded. It was a futile argument, and everyone knew it, even her.

Over twenty of the hookers living in the apartment complex were highly addicted to Kitty's purchases, and used a chunk of their money (what little they had) to fund her. A few, like Sam, tried to only take hits and give up money when things got rough, which happened a bit too often for their liking.

So all in all, Kitty would keep spending.

"Oh, hush, Vicky," Kitty said playfully, tiptoeing over to place the cocaine gently on Sam's knee. "I just wanted to drop this off. See you two," she said cheerfully, blowing a kiss their way before skittering out of the room.

Victoria scowled at the bag, and Sam had the decency to glance away, guilt gnawing at him, piece by piece.

"I'm not going to lecture you, Sam," she said softly with a tired smile, which only made him feel worse, "If you ever want to talk, come to my room, okay?"

She climbed to her feet and padded from the room, and Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair, fingertips skimming along the surface of his scalp.

Then he remembered the look on Dean's face earlier, and he reached for the bag.


	3. Chapter 3

That night Dean trashed his room, went out to a bar and nearly drank himself to death, only to come back and dream of his little brother crawling into the backseats of cars and slinking into sleazy motels.

When he woke the next morning, he felt sick, and not just from the monster hangover. His stomach rolled and he peered around the room, taking in the shattered lamp, the cracked TV screen, and the papers that were scattered everywhere.

He still had one grasped in his hand, and he opened his fist to see that it was Sam's new number. Dean sighed and scanned it once before shoving it into his pocket.

_Call him_, a voice whispered in his mind, and he was a little surprised to hear that it sounded not unlike Sam's.

He gingerly got up from the bed, wincing as his head pounded rhythmically with pain. He scooped up his cellphone from the floor and sat down at the foot of the bed, absentmindedly fiddling with it.

Finally he shakily dialed, and held the phone up to ear.

* * *

"Sam! Hon, you've got a phone call," Victoria called. Sam rubbed his eyes and stumbled to Heather's room, where the phone was kept. When he got there, Heather welcomed him inside with a small smile.

He liked Heather a lot, she was very sweet and kind, and didn't deserve to be where she was. She had very light blonde hair and eyes the color of the noon sky, and was a very small girl, with a height of 5'1.

The two of them standing next to each other was always amusing to other people. Sam looked like a giant that could topple mountains and Heather looked as small as a mouse.

Kitty was always trying to sink her claws into her, get her to try some what she had in those little plastic bags. That was the only time Sam ever got angry with Kitty, so she never seemed to turn up when he was with Heather.

Sam approached the phone nestled in the corner of the room, resting halfway in it's cradle. He picked it up, having a hunch on who it was, and it wasn't a client he had in mind.

Raising it to his ear, he waited for a minute before whispering, "Dean?"

There was a soft intake of breath, and Dean's voice came over the line, rough and weary. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Um, look," he tried, "Can we talk? Meet up somewhere."

As if he could see Sam's hesitant expression, he quickly added, "I won't try to convince you to do anything. I swear, I just want to talk, man."

Sam swallowed and slowly nodded before he remembered Dean couldn't see him. "Okay," he said, hoping the tremble in his voice was subtle enough for Dean to overlook.

"Okay. Uh, you wanna meet for breakfast somewhere? I think there's a diner around here," Dean suggested awkwardly, and Sam could hear some rustling as Dean walked around.

Sam tapped his fingers against his thigh. Damn it. He didn't have the money for something like that and he really didn't want to have to say it out loud.

"My treat," Dean continued, "Only 'cause I'm draggin' ya out here."

Sam felt kinda guilty, but also pretty relieved.

"'Kay. I'll meet you. Eight?"

"Sure."

* * *

Dean was excited, by he also dreaded it. He wouldn't be able to look at his brother without thinking about what he was doing. Dean loved his brother, there was no denying that, but he had no idea how to handle this.

So he responded in true Winchester fashion. He got angry. Hopefully the hotel manager would keep room service out for a while, at least until he left, because he really didn't want to have to deal with the wreckage in his room.

The diner was a small, brightly lit place with white walls and sunny yellow furniture. If you looked at the yellow too long, it got sickening, so he just sat down at watched people pass outside the window.

There was a shuffle and Sam slid smoothly into the booth, on the other side of the table. Dean blinked. Sam looked different than yesterday.

The day before, he looked like a regular guy, with a black hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. Now, he was dressed in a light grey shirt that stretched tight across his chest, the color making his golden skin look even darker.

His jeans were a deep black and torn around the knees and thighs and his sneakers were black too, but much older than the rest of his clothes.

His hair was unkempt and fluffy and black eyeliner was smudge expertly around his eyes, making the green in them glow brightly.

"After this, I'm working," Sam told him. Dean nodded. Sam eyed him, with his pale skin and stringy hair. "You look like shit."

Dean squinted at Sam, taking in the slight shake in Sam's frame and the dark circles under Sam's eyes. "You don't look so great, either."

"I had a rough night," Sam quipped, knowing full well Dean did too.

A waitress approached, and she took their order, or rather Dean's, because she wouldn't look at Sam, and Dean got the impression that she was trying to pretend Sam didn't exist.

"She knows what I am," Sam said evenly, watching Dean closely for he was curious of his reaction, "Everyone here does." Dean glanced around and sure enough, people were ignoring Sam like the plague.

"Screw them," Dean said, a little louder than necessary. Sam blinked, and a small warmth appeared in his chest, but he pushed it down. Now was not the time, he told himself.

Sam intertwined his fingers, laying his forearms on the cool plastic of the table. The waitress soon came with their food. Sam had been nervous about ordering as much as he did, but Dean encouraged him.

Almost half of it he got put in styrofoam boxes so he could take it home to the house.

It would most certainly be a welcome surprise. When Dean gave him a questioning look, he muttered, "The others haven't eaten something like this in a long time."

Dean nodded and they ate their food, Sam practically wolfing it down, which was something that most certainly caught Dean's attention.

Sam could barely believe he was getting this worked up over diner food. And not even good diner food. Which showed how long exactly he'd been eating sandwiches.

After they finished, and the waitress had taken their dishes away, the two sat there and looked at each other, minutes ticking by in silence. Dean licked his lips, and glanced down, breaking their staring contest.

"I just want to know...why? Out of all the things you could've done for money, why this?" Muscles shifted in Sam's jaw as he clenched it tightly.

Dean swallowed and inwardly sighed when it seemed like Sam wasn't going to answer.

"Look, I get why you're asking, and I know you feel guilty about what I'm doing. But it wasn't your decision, so just...let it go."

Dean frowned. "I don't think I can do that." He looked up at Sam, suddenly disgusted by what Sam was wearing. "God, you're selling yourself for _sex_! What the hell drove you to do _that_?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. "People who sell themselves aren't as disgusting as you think they are," he growled.

"Aren't they?" Dean snapped, the words falling from his lips before he could hold them back.

There was a brief flash of hurt in Sam's eyes, a flash of _Sam_, before they closed off and became hard and cold. Dean couldn't believe what he just said. Son of a bitch, he swore to himself.

"Sam,' he began, tone apologetic. Sam didn't say a word as he stood up, and he didn't have to. The stony look on his face said it all.

Dean stood up too, panicked that if Sam walked out the door Dean might never find him again, and that scared him more than anything.

"Sam, wait, I'm sorry-"

Sam rounded on him, and Dean took a step back. Sam several inches taller than him, so his cold fury was very intimidating as he towered over him. "I want you to leave me alone," he hissed.

Then he turned around and left and Dean felt a prickle in his eyes, warning him of oncoming tears, and he shoved them down, disgusted with himself.

Damn it.

* * *

Dean left a few minutes after Sam and simply wandered around in the city, hands shoved in his pockets.

"This sucks ass," he growled to himself.

Suddenly, cool air tickled the back of his neck and he slowed to a stop. He glanced to the left, where a dark alley waited, swathed in shadows. He scowled, but moved towards it anyway, left hand reaching for the gun tucked into the back of his waistband.

"Hunter," a voice whispered. Dean inhaled and twisted around, only to come face to face with eyes as black as night. They glittered with malice.

Then next thing he knew was pain, searing pain shot through his body and filled his skull, and then nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was pretty sure he was dead.

He felt like he was floating, stuck in a void with no anchor to anything. It was calm, and it was peaceful.

Then there was a tug.

And another one, stronger this time, pulling him out and away from the void. Dean resisted at first, but there was something about it that sparked Dean's curiousity.

Suddenly, he was standing in a room. It was dirty, though the inhabitant obviously tried to keep it well-kept. There was a mattress on the floor and a few candles were settled here and there on the floor, though none of them were lit.

"What the hell?" he whispered. Suddenly, there was a creak, and Sam walked in.

"Sam?"

Sam turned his head and he _saw_ him. His eyes widened and he gaped at Dean. "Holy crap. D-Dean?" Dean nodded. "What...? What the hell happened to you?"

Dean threw his hands up in the air. "I have no idea! I was checking out an alley when some freak with black eyes jumped me. Now I'm here, and- why are you looking at me like that?"

Sam pursed his lips and looked Dean up and down. "Dude...you're kinda, like..see through." Dean blinked a few times and looked down at himself. Sure enough, his entire body was slightly see through, giving him a ghostly appearance.

"Son of a bitch," he swore. He looked at Sam, aghast. "Am I dead?"

Sam swallowed nervously. "Uh..if you're going through the same thing as Sasha, then I think you're in a coma. Like...and out-of-body experience or something."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. Well, why am I here?" Sam shrugged, and Dean sighed. "What am I supposed to do? If someone sees me, I'm screwed." Sam held up a finger, forehead scrunched slightly at he thought about something.

"Actually, I'm not sure if anyone else can see you. I think you are going through the same thing as Sasha, but if she's like you, then shouldn't someone have noticed her walking around all ghostly and stuff?"

Dean rubbed his temples. "Then how can you see me?" Sam shrugged again and Dean made a face. "Awesome."

Suddenly, Victoria walked into the room and the two of them froze. "Sam, have you seen Jasmine? I thought she..." Victoria trailed off and she watched Sam for a minute. "Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale."

Sam snapped out of his reverie and licked his lips. "I'm fine. Thanks." He smiled at her and she frowned but she left without any protests. Dean raised his eyebrows. "I guess she couldn't see me. So it really is just you."

Sam groaned. "This is not good."

Dean snorted. "You're telling me."

Sam cast him a glare. "Dean, I have to work tonight, remember?"

It suddenly clicked in Dean's mind and he scrunched up his face. "Oh, ew, man. That's not somethin' I wanna see!" Sam raised his hands in surrender.

"Believe me, I don't want you to see it either, but if you're tied to me somehow then you're probably going to go where I go."

Dean huffed. "Can't I just stand outside or something?"

Sam sighed. "I have no idea. Look, I got to go to work." Dean closed his mouth, figuring that it was the end of the conversation, at least for now. Sam walked out of his room and Dean followed, glancing around Sam's home.

"It's really broken down," he noted. Sam exhaled, looking uncomfortable. He spotted Heather down the hall and he sped up, leaving Dean to catch up. "Heather!" Sam called, and she smiled brightly when she saw him.

"Do you know if Kitty still has the condoms?" he asked. Heather thought for a moment.

"I think so," she said slowly, "But the box is almost out, so Victoria ran out to get another one. If you wait, you can get one from her."

Sam shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I really need to get out there. Where's Kitty?" Dean watched with rapt attention as Sam talked with the small girl.

Heather shifted from one foot to the other, and Sam frowned. "Heather?"

She bit her bottom lip. "She was in Ben's room." Sam's face darkened and Heather quickly scurried away. Dean watched her go before turning back to his brother.

"Ben? Who the hell is Ben?"

Sam took a breath. "A really big jackass." He turned on his heel and walked down a different hallway that twisted and turned so much Dean thought it might never end. Sam suddenly stopped at one of the room and stuck his head in.

Dean realized for the first time that none of the rooms had any doors.

Sam just hoped him and Ben could simply glare at one another, trade some insults, and Sam would get him to relinquish a frickin' condom and he'd be on his merry way.

"Hey, Ben!" Sam barked. There was a rustle and a guy with bright orange hair lumbered to the doorway, smirking at Sam.

The corner of Sam's mouth turned down. "Hey, _Sam._ You want somethin'? Oh, wait, I know why you're here. You want a condom." Ben snorted. "You're a dude who gets nailed by other dudes, what the hell do you need a condom for?"

Sam gritted his teeth and Dean did the same.

"You know why," he ground out. The words dripped with hate and Dean drew back.

Ben stilled and blinked. "Oh, yeah. But, dude, it's really not that big of a deal-" Sam punched him in the face and Ben went sprawling, his back making a loud thud on the floor on impact.

"Jesus! God, Sam, you can get it treated!" Ben cried, holding his jaw. Sam seethed fury and Dean had to wonder what the guy did to deserve so much anger, especially from his little brother.

"We don't have the money for that kind of stuff. You know that, too," Sam said quietly. He huffed. "Forget it. I'll wait for Victoria to get back."

Sam stalked out of the room, ignoring Dean's demands for an explanation. As soon as Sam stepped foot into his room, Dean yelled, "Sam! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Why the fuck would you care!" Sam spat.

Dean bristled. "Because I'm your brother!"

"Fat lot of good that did me," Sam retorted.

Dean threw his hands into the air. "Seriously, Sam? What are you, bipolar? One minute you're chatting with your friends, the next you're assaulting some guy two halls down!"

"You don't know what he did," Sam hissed.

"Then _tell _me," Dean said, almost pleading.

Sam stopped, and shook his head. "Look, I don't give a damn about what you think you have to do or say to me in some weird way of an apology. I don't want it. All I want is for you to go away and never come back."

Dean swallowed hard.

"I have gone through so much _shit_ since I've been here, you have no idea. You think you can just show up and that everything'll be okay? Do you have any idea how _hard_ this is for me, to see you after all this time? So fuck you, Dean. Fuck you!"

Sam voiced cracked on the last sentence, and Dean saw his forcibly blink away tears. His expression softened. "Sam..."

Sam shook his head. "Don't," he whispered shakily, "Don't you dare look at me like that."

It took a while, and Dean was willing to wait, for Sam to compose himself enough to start talking again with his emotional mask back in place.

"We should, uh, figure out how to get you back in your body, and kill whatever did it."

Dean nodded. "I'm up for that, though I'd like to get in my body first. I don't you going against that thing by yourself." Sam shrugged in partial agreement, though he'd never tell Dean that, and he pulled his pack of Malboros and lit one up.

His brother scowled. "You smoke now?" Sam exhaled, smoke swirling in the air.

"It's calming."

"They'll kill you."

"I know."

"Then who don't you quit?"

"They're addicting."

Ah, the real answer. Dean sat down on the floor, and after a moment, Sam sat down next to him. He briefly wondered how Dean would feel if he found out that Sam wasn't only on cigarettes, but cocaine too.

He'd be pissed.

Dean glanced over at him,eyeing Sam's cigarette distastefully.

"Once I get my body back, I'm getting you to kick those things."


	5. Chapter 5

**I am horrible.**

**I am an awful writer and a bad human being.**

**I read through the story and realized my mistakes, especially with the description of Kitty (that can never be excused) and I know that to fix it would take time and effort I really don't want to put in.**

**For that, I am deeply sorry.**

**I also need to thank each and every person who reviewed. **

**Those reviews give me a warm, happy feeling and I usually end up grinning like an idiot for at least five minutes. Each and every one of them I take to heart and I love taking suggestions, altering the writing to answer questions, and just to see how you like it.**

**It convinces me to keep writing, so again, thank you.**

* * *

Dean was so ungodly uncomfortable, it was ridiculous.

Sam stood there and pretended like Dean didn't exist, flaunting himself to everyone who drove past. Eventually, someone stopped and Sam grinned and flirted with the driver for a few minutes before climbing into his car.

It took only about twenty minutes, but it felt like a millions years for Dean, and he just wrinkled his nose and tried to think about anything other than what his baby brother was doing in the passenger seat of that car.

Sam climbed out, tucking a wad of bills into his pocket and popping a mint into his mouth as the car sped away.

"You good? You done? Can we go?"

Sam just snorted and rolled his eyes, resuming his former position against the fence with his thumbs hooked lazily in the front pockets of his jeans. "Not by a long shot, Dean," he murmured.

Dean suppressed a groan. He sighed impatiently and briefly glanced around. It was dark and it was chilly, by the looks of the small, white clouds coming from Sam's mouth every time he exhaled.

"You cold?" he asked. Sam shrugged. "Eh, not really. You kinda get used to it after a while."

Dean winced internally.

"Hey, I was wondering," he began, and Sam glanced at him warily out of the corner of his eye. "What did Ben do, exactly? I've never seen you so angry with someone, not even Dad."

Sam went rigid and Dean wondered if he said the wrong thing, though he wasn't sure if it was the comment about Ben or Dad, or both. Sam's fingers scraped at the material of his pants and Dean narrowed his eyes.

Sam was on edge, nervous, and the light flush on the back of his neck told Dean that he was ashamed. Anger coursed through his veins. Ben had done something _to _Sam, but what?

And depending on the severity, Ben might not be breathing easily for much longer.

"Sam," he said softly, "What did he do?"

Sam was shaking, and that set off so many alarms in Dean's head that he himself was getting panicked. Sam was internally freaking out. He was so frightened, but he wasn't sure what it was about exactly.

Unwanted memories creeped towards the front of his mind and he licked his lips. "It's nothing," he lied, voice rough. He could feel Dean's gaze on him, worried and disbelieving, searching for signs in Sam's body language.

Dean wanted to push the subject, but another car pulled up, a regular client, if the recognition in Sam's eyes was anything to go by. It took a lot longer than the previous one, lasting nearly an hour before Sam emerged from the black chevy, dark red marks on his neck.

Sam called it quits and went back to the house, refusing to look at Dean at all. They went up to his room, where Sam sat down and lit up another cigarette. What he really wanted to do was to pull out the cocaine under the top right corner of his mattress, but there was no way in hell he was snorting that stuff in front of his brother.

He could see the displeasure on Dean's face, but at the moment he didn't really care. Sam was curious as to what time it was, but if he wanted to know, he'd have to go check the clock in Talia's room, and he really wasn't in the mood to get up.

"I'm going to bed, feel free to explore the place or somethin'," Sam said, and Dean huffed indignantly.

As Sam dozed off, Dean got to his feet and crept out into the hall. It was dark, except for a few candles that were lit and were spread out down the length of the hall. Some people spoke in hushed whispers, and other laughed openly while playing cards or trading cigarettes.

"What did you say to Sam to get him so pissed at you?"

Dean stopped and glanced over into the room next to him. Victoria and Ben sat on a bed, side by side, Ben glowering and Victoria looking at the floor and waiting for his answer.

"Well, _it _got brought up, and I kind of...told him it was that big of a deal-" Victoria cut him off with a harsh slap to the face, in the same spot Sam hit him on. Ben grabbed his face, hissing in pain. ""Damn it! Look, it was a stupid thing to say, I know."

Victoria clenched her jaw. "He'll never forgive you, and frankly, neither will I. You had no right to do that to him." Ben didn't say anything, and she visibly deflated. "But I know you regret doing it."

She sighed. "God, Ben, what drove you to that?"

Ben shrugged. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I never thought I'd do it, but heh, look at where I am now. At first, I wanted to work at getting him to forgive me, but he's such a _goddamn_-"

Victoria cut him off again, tone sharp and clipped. "You _raped_ him, Ben. Two days after you did it, he set out to kill you. I stopped him, and I don't know if he'll ever forgive me for that."

Dean was floored. It was like the weight on the entire world was pressing down on him, and he was so lost.

"I wish I never did it," Ben said.

Dean had heard enough, and he turned on his heel and stalked back to the room, sitting down next to Sam's mattress and breathing hard. "Oh my God, Sam," he whispered.

* * *

Sam didn't know what was up with Dean, but he didn't like it. Dean barely spoke to him, and when he did, it was with soft spoken tones. Sam kept working, but he knew that when it was done, he would grill his brother for answers.

They were walking the streets, side by side, and Sam ignored some of the leers sent his way. While it was his job to serve others, he knew the signs of bad news, and some of them were certainly it.

"Hey, hoo_ka'_," a voice called, and both stopped, Dean glancing over at Sam and frowning at the wide smile that spread over Sam's face.

The owner of the voice turned out to be a tall, well built black man, part of a gang if the symbol on his sleeve meant anything. The two hugged and Sam clicked his tongue. "Hey, Ethan."

Ethan wrinkled his nose and detached from the hug. "Man, don't use ma name out here. Bad for my image." Sam chuckled but held his hands up in surrender.

"Whatever. So, what's up?"

Ethan replied smoothly, "Just workin' the way, bro. You?" Dean shifted from one foot to the other and looked back and forth between the two, trying to figure out how and why Sam had ties with someone in a gang.

Sam exhaled loudly. "Same as usual, man." Ethan nodded. Another man walked up, a latino, stopping several feet away and he whistled once. Ethan turned his head and nodded knowingly to the other man, who nodded back and started walking.

"Shoot, man, I gotta roll." Sam nodded and Ethan said, "Hey, next time you swing by, hit me up and we can hang, kay? See ya later, man." Ethan jogged off and Sam waved him goodbye.

Dean didn't ask, and Sam didn't tell.

Later that night, Sam went back out onto the streets. Dean slowly watched his brother grow more and more exhausted as the hours went by, but he just stayed silent.

They were sitting on the side of the road, and Sam was quickly counting his cash, nervously glancing around. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dude, what's up? What're looking around for?"

Sam pursed his lips. "It's not a good idea to count money out on the streets. Someone could take it from you. But I don't have a choice; Susan's really sick and Lily doesn't have enough money for meds. I'm trying to figure out if I need to hit one more client tonight."

Dean sighed, but nodded.

Sam felt a light chill go up his spine seconds before a shadow fell over him. Slowly, he raised his head and looked up at the man standing above him. He was incredibly well built, with black hair and his mouth was set in a permanent scowl.

"Hand over your money, _whore_," he spat. Sam swallowed and hesitantly stood up, hoping the guy would be a little more put off by his height, but the guy only inched forward. Dean was beginning to panic.

Sam couldn't just give the guy the money. Almost the entire third floor was sick, so everyone was burning cash trying to get them better. Sam was sent out in the morning to get the building food and supplies, along with funding for Lily.

Dean whispered, "Sam, give it to him," though he knew his brother would do no such thing.

Sam shook his head. "No," he said forcefully, and he buried the cash in his pocket, the other hand already curling into a fist. But the other man was faster, and within second, Sam was slamming against the concrete.

"Get off of me!" Sam shouted, hoping to get someone's attention, anyone, as the man began whaling on him.

He bucked and kicked wildly, briefly dislodging his assailant's grip on him and he scrabbled at the ground, shoes trying to find purchase on the sidewalk. The man wrapped a thick arm around his midsection, the other plunging into his pocket.

The man pocketed the money, and Sam swore angrily, struggling frantically in the man's grip. The man shoved him to the ground, punching him in the face for good measure as he hooked his fingers into Sam's waistband.

Dean couldn't believe what he was seeing, and he wanted to curl into a ball and scream because he couldn't do anything to help.

Sam managed to ram his knee into the man's gut, hard, and he felt his confidence boost as the man let out a pained grunt. He flipped over onto his knees and quickly crawled forward, wincing as the cement scraped his hands and wrists.

Sam scrambled to his feet and took off, Dean hot on his heels.


	6. Chapter 6

"Son of a bitch," Sam swore, panting and doubling over, hands braced on his legs for support. Dean didn't think he could've said it better himself.

Dean checked the road for any sign of the attacker, but it seemed that the guy had simply given up and left with the money. He turned back to his brother. "Jesus, Sam, that was really close. Are you okay?"

Sam stood up, lifting a hand to gingerly prod at the bruises and scrapes on his face. "Son of a bitch! He got the money- Shit, I won't be working with these. Damn it!"

Dean held up his hands, trying to get Sam to calm down. "Sam, chill. It's okay. Things happen." In his mind, however, he was already planning on how he would be taking care of Sam's attacker as soon as he was back in business.

"God," Sam hissed quietly, "I hate it when this happens." Dean froze and Sam realized what he'd just said.

His brother turned his head to peer at him. "This has happened before?" Sam licked his bottom lip and kicked awkwardly at a small pebble on the ground, and watched as it bounced away.

"Maybe once...or twice," he muttered under his breath.

Dean scowled. "Sam..."

Sam made a 'ch' sound and turned on his to start walking back to the house, and Dean, who was fuming (though at what he had no idea), followed him back. "Hey, I don't want to sound like an ass or anything, but how am I supposed to go back to normal?"

His little brother gave him a frustrated glance, and sighed. "I don't know. I've been thinking about it, and I'm wondering if it's a demon." Dean drew back in surprise.

"A demon," he echoed, "A demon? What reason would a demon have for throwing people out of their bodies?"

Sam suddenly came to a stop, and his eyes widened in worry. "What if it needs them for something?" Dean gaped and scoffed angrily.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting some punk ass demon use my body for anything! I'll kill that sucker," he raged, and Sam briefly looked rather amused. Dean couldn't help the warmth that blossomed in his chest.

"Somehow, I don't think the demon's going to be quivering in its boots," Sam jibed, grinning a little. Dean's face exploded into a bright smile and he felt absolutely elated.

This was _Sam._

"I'll make it quiver Sam," he shot back and Sam snorted quietly. They went back and forth with lame jokes, but Dean didn't care, because they were finally being _brothers _again.

When the house came back into sight, Sam's smile faltered and faded, and Dean couldn't help but curse inwardly. Slowly, Sam's iron wall was chipping away, revealing both the brother Dean knew and loved with all his heart, and all the pain and scars from Sam's time alone.

Dean was pretty sure he would never forgive himself for that.

Sam smiled again, but it was softer, gentler this time.

They went inside, where Victoria went all mother hen on Sam, bandaging up his hands and putting ointment on his cuts. Which Sam got pretty angry about, because apparently there wasn't a lot of it.

Ben seemed pretty concerned, Dean noted. He was talking with Victoria later, after Sam had gone up to his room to rest. Dean crept closer, trying to gauge this guy.

If he didn't know what Ben had done, he would've thought he was a pretty decent guy. At least, when Sam wasn't around.

"What happened to him?" Ben asked. Victoria twisted her hands nervously, obviously concerned about the entire ordeal. Dean felt a little weird, standing less than five feet from them, and they had no idea he was there.

"I'm not sure," Victoria admitted, "From what I gathered, Sam was assaulted by a man when he was out on the streets. All his money was taken, and, um," she faltered, briefly glancing around to see if anyone else was in earshot, "The guy tried to, well, you know..."

Ben looked kind of sick. As he should, Dean thought bitterly. "Did he?" Victoria shook her head and Ben let out a small breath of relief. Victoria gave him a look.

"Why aren't you like this around Sam? It would certainly help with the asshole reputation you have."

Ben shrugged. "I don't really know how to act around him, you know? I know what I did, and I can barely look or speak to him, save for when we argue." Dean rolled his eyes, not really wanting to hear his emo crap.

He quickly left the scene and went to Sam's room, where, per usual, he was smoking away.

"You're going to give yourself lung cancer," he muttered. Sam ignored him, mumbling a retort to himself, too quiet and quick for Dean to catch.

Dean just rolled his eyes again and stayed with Sam, waiting until he fell asleep to sit back and close his eyes. Of course, he couldn't really sleep since he didn't really have a body, but he could kind of just...rest.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sound of a panicked scream. He looked over at Sam, who was just beginning to stir under his blanket, which was much too small for the guy.

"Wha? Wha's goin' on?" Sam asked, voice slurred with sleep. There was another scream, and the brothers were on their feet in a flash and out the door, Sam leading the way.

"Everybody, get out! Get out now!" Sam recognized the voice as Victoria's and he bolted down the hall before skidding to a stop. One of the rooms was on fire, and the flames were spreading.

Judging by the blankets that were now also burning, some people had tried to put it out. "Sam!" Victoria cried in a panic. She ran to him, reaching out to grab his arm.

"I can't find everyone! I think Heather's upstairs!" Sam went pale and he nodded, steering Victoria towards the exit.

Sam licked his lips. "Victoria, get all the people you can find on the lower levels and get out of here. I'm going to go through the upper floors, okay?" Victoria nodded numbly. "Stay calm; We'll be okay."

Dean wished he could touch Sam, because he would smack him one. "What the hell do you think you're doing? The apartment is burning down, Sam! You gotta get out of here!"

Sam shook his head. The fire had spread to most of the hallway, and most likely part of the floor above. He could hear screams, though from where, he wasn't sure.

He ran through the flames, emerging onto unburnt floor, eyes watering and coughing from the thick clouds of smoke. He swiped a small blanket from the ground and pressed it to his face to try and keep from inhaling smoke.

Sam began checking the rooms, Dean hovering around him and glancing around for anything Sam might've missed. The heat was sweltering, and Sam broke out into a sweat as he climbed the stairs to the third floor.

"Is anyone here?" he called over the roar of the fire only a few halls down. There was a harsh cough and Sam was moving forward, slipping into a room. Ben was on all fours on the hardwood.

Sam's face hardened, but he crouched next to Ben and ripped the blanket he had in half, pressing the other piece to Ben's face. "Hold it there," he said loudly. Ben nodded weakly and replaced Sam's hand with his own.

"Can you stand?" he asked. Ben nodded and weakly rasped, "Yes." Sam pulled him to his feet and escorted him out into the hallway. Sam made sure to crouch down so he and Ben were face to face.

"Get out of here as fast as you can. If you see anyone else still inside, get them out immediately. Do you understand?" Ben nodded and Sam let him go, turning to jog towards the source of heat.

He turned the corner and practically slammed right into a familiar blonde, who was covered head to toe in black soot and coughing harshly. "Sam!" Heather gasped.

Sam quickly pressed his blanket piece against her face. "Breathe. Do you know if there's anyone else?" Heather shook her head, small hands feebly pushing the cloth against her mouth.

"There's..no..one else..I think...," she wheezed. Sam nodded, his momentarily relief quickly turning into alarm as Heather swayed on her feet. He scooped her up in his arms, briefly marveling at how light she was.

"Sam, let's go!" Dean pleaded and Sam nodded once to show Dean he had heard. He choked on smoke when he inhaled, and had to pause to catch his breath.

When he could breathe again, Sam set off, lumbering down the halls and nearly falling down the stairs with Dean following and growling about how they needed elevators.

Technically, elevators wouldn't be very helpful to people in a fire, but Sam figured he could mention it later, when they were out of the building.

Suddenly, there was a loud groan, and Sam could feel the floor under his feet vibrating. A snap, and a piece of blackened woods crashed to the ground in front of them.

"Damn it," Sam hissed. He stepped over it, wincing at the blistering heat as the flames licked at his legs. Dean skirted around his brother and went ahead, watching for danger.

He caught sight of the front door and breathed out in relief. Dean turned to look back at his brother, and his eyes went wide.

"Sam! Look out!"

* * *

The wood slammed into Sam's back and he dropped to one knee. Heather suddenly grasped at the fabric of his shirt, panting weakly. Luckily, Sam was able to scoot out from under the debris and wobble back to his feet.

It was Dean's warning that saved him, and he would make sure he thanked him for it. Sam's head was swimming, and his chest constricted as it ran out of air. Dean's yells for him to get to safety became muted and his ears began to ring.

He stumbled forward anyway, collapsing against the door and pushing it open to stumble out onto the lawn. "Sam!" Sam passed Heather into someone else's arms, and let Victoria lower him to his knees, panting heavily.

Everyone was gathered on the sidewalks. Some were burned, others were breathing heavy like Sam. A few had a few belongings clutched in their hands, most of them scorched or melted.

Almost everyone was crying. Kitty was sobbing, burying her face into Ben's shoulder. Jasmine and Lily were crying too, clutching Heather, who was sniffling quietly.

Nearly every face was stained with tears, for their only home and refuge, and for each other, and all they had lost. They had nothing now, and all they could do was stand there, knowing they had no where to go.

Sam was crying too, eyes shiny with tears and his hands were fisted in the grass, clutching at the ground. His breaths came in soft hiccups and his entire body trembled.

And everyone watched their home burn.


End file.
